Out of Reach
by Mrs.Stockholm
Summary: It's like they say, all the best things are out of reach.


I don't own it because I can't control my slash meter.

**Out of Reach**

Pony stood on tip-toe, stretching his arm out to its fullest and willed his fingers to grow just a few centimeters longer. Sadly, they didn't and he had to hop up on the counter to pull the bowl off the highest shelf.

'Being short sucks,' he decided. Curly was upstairs looking for Elvis's newest hit and he was going to make the popcorn so that they could hang out in the living room.

'Then again, isn't Darry always saying the things worth having are ones you have to work towards?' He snorted at the thought. 'That's just a nicer way of saying everything is out of reach for greasers. College costs too much, new records are too pricey, girls with class all look down their noses at us. Damn, there's nothing left for us is there?'

From behind him he heard the shuffle of socks on wood and without even having to turn around knew it must be Curly. Not bothering to look away from the popcorn maker, he called over his shoulder.

"Hey, this'll be done in a minute. Why don't you go put the music on?" The feet stopped and he heard a voice that was _definitely _not Curly.

"That's great except I have no clue what you're talking about or why you're in my kitchen." The sound of his voice sent shivers down his spine. He was always commanding, even when he didn't mean to be. The voice of a leader, making you shake in intimidation. And right now he sounded like he had just gotten out of bed, rough and gravely, making Pony shiver in a totally different way.

Spinning slowly, he saw Tim Shepard standing in the door way…with no shirt on. Fighting a blush that he knew was showing anyways, he tried to think of the right thing to say. Realizing he had probably been quiet too long, he snapped his jaw shut and turned back to the popcorn.

Behind him he heard a light snort and the sound of feet shuffling on the wood floors. A moment later there was the sound of a chair being pulled out. The machine finished and beeped and he flipped it off and emptied the popcorn into the large bowl he had pulled from the cabinet. Studiously avoiding Tim's eyes, he made his way into the living room.

Soon Curly came bounding down the stairs in his usual loud way and Pony wondered to himself how he got the quiet sound of Tim's feet mixed up with _that_. Mentally giving himself a shake, he popped a kernel into his mouth and crunched down just in time to see Tim watching him. Instead of letting him see the blush on his face, he turned to watch as Curly put Elvis on.

"Man I love this guy. He's always making great stuff!" Curly said. Pony nodded, still silent. When you hung out with Curly you didn't really need to hold up your end of the conversation very often. A few words here or there usually kept him happy. By the end of the chorus he was already forgotten as Curly tried to sing along to words he didn't know yet.

Suddenly there was an arm in front of him and he pulled back in alarm, but that just put him closer to the person the arm was attached to. Tim was standing right behind him, reaching over his shoulder for the bowl, and now he had an eyeful of smooth, muscular chest.

Tim smirked when he jerked back, and damn if that wasn't the sexiest thing on earth. He tossed a piece of the popcorn into his mouth, still wearing that damn smirk like startling a kid was the most amusing thing on the planet…and still not pulling away.

As Curly fumbled over the second chorus, Tim smiled. Watching his brother, he whispered, "He really shouldn't be allowed to sing, hmm?" Pony agreed, but at the moment he was a bit too uncomfortable to do anything more than offer a quick nod. Tim stared at him a moment, then pulled away. Tossing a half-wave over his shoulder, he left and Pony let out a breath of relief. Lordy, that man was gonna drive him crazy.

But watching him walk away, Pony had to think back to his list of things greasers couldn't have. College, check. Classy girls, check. Nice cars, check. Tim Shepard, definitely check.

He heaved a mental sigh.

'I suppose it's like Darry says, all the best things are out of reach.'


End file.
